Snap
by Brain and Eggs
Summary: She had blinked, that was all that happened.


"You don't mean that." She said softly, shaking her head.

"No, I do."

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity.

Claustrophobia and broken feelings, it had taken months to build up.

She was growing, she was becoming stronger. And what they had, had for five years. The tender age of nineteen, and now it had all dissipated. Tears filled her eyes, until everything blurred.

His eyes, that she had first fell for, were now looking at her with pain and resentment. And seething anger underneath the surface.

He turned around, and she felt a pain surface from within the centre of her. Not that they were taking a break, which they both knew it was a final ending of their relationship. But at the fact that someone who was her best friend, was walking away.

"Nate?"

He turned and looked back at her, his gaze vacant but almost hopeful.

She opened her mouth until she heard her cell.

She bit the inside of her cheek, and waited, staring at him. Her past. Her best friend.

Once.

Paralysis accompanying the fact, before her limbs itched to move.

She flipped open her cell.

"I'm sorry, just one second."

He gave a grave smirk.

"You know, the person whose calls you take. That's the relationship you're in. I hope you two are very happy together."

As she watched him walk away. She felt a numbness, and a realization, even within the incessant shrill ringing in her ears. That she didn't want to follow him.

She heard the snap of her hand as she answered the call, before she realized she had done it.

"Hello Miranda."

…

She ended the phone call, and turned her eyes to the book. Floral and leather. Sultry eyes. But not the model she was looking at.

She heard the door slam shut. Another night, another bar. She wondered who he would come home smelling of. Odious musk or lavender spring. Redhead or dirty blonde. Either way she could smell it within the halls, of her house. He couldn't even be bothered to cover it.

She steeped her fingers under her chin, the photographs of her children outside her line of vision.

It would end soon.

A pre nup. Separate fortunes. Although she doubted he had much of that left.

But he wasn't careful in his affairs. He would not touch her. Nor would he get the money, that was entitled to her children.

The soft, efficient voice at the other end of the call, had taken her instructions. Had planned ahead, therefore ending future problems that nobody else had dealt with. Miranda had nodded, if even only to herself.

The constant buzzing in her ear had been frustrating and annoying, as she had waited with little patience before she had answered. It had taken longer than normal.

As she had answered, Miranda could hear the tremor in her voice. The slight sniff that had accompanied her answering of the call.

There had been a crack. And Miranda had heard it within the depths of the quiet words.

And for that split second. Miranda had felt something peel away at her. Just a fraction, a tug here or there.

Concern.

She blinked it away; as her eyes scanned the third page, disdain beginning to drip over her features.

…

The bright lights and incessant photographs taken, stopped her for a moment, before she turned around to speak to the brunette.

Her eyes widened, she stopped and her eyes snapped over the crowd like an eagle, before she saw the back of her walking towards the fountain.

She moved back into the fray and once inside, she snapped her cell open. Fury clouding her vision, at the childish way her assistant was behaving after their brief conversation in the car.

There was no answer.

Until she was met with an operator speaking in the robotic monotone voice that said the phone was no longer in service.

She took a moment to walk to the rest room and compose herself.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Ornate and beautiful and sophisticated.

So the impertinent child had left of her own volition. Nothing had happened to her.

Miranda clamped down hard on the wave of relief, she felt when she saw Andrea. Instead of the flash of worry, when she had turned around and thought something had happened to her within the fog of paparazzi.

She looked into her reflection and saw something in her eyes that alarmed her. More than Irvs attempt to overthrow, more than throwing Nigel under the bus. And more than Stephen making the first move towards the divorce, by sending her the papers by fax.

Her eyes were simply swollen, with regret.

She swallowed hard, before brushing her hair lightly and walking out into the smiling, fake crowds that bowed to her.

…

Three weeks later.

The new assistant with the mousy hair had walked in and placed this on her desk.

"I found it, once I had opened the bottom drawer that had been locked." She managed to get out, before she turned quick on her heels and left Miranda with, this.

An A4 leather bound book. But not a notebook. As tempted as Miranda was to tell Emily to simply deal with this. She moved her hand down the front. The smell of Andreas perfume within her grasp.

She opened the book and felt her hand shake, just a little.

It was Nigel. A smiling, buoyant Nigel sketched in dark blue.

The next page was Emily laughing with Serena. Her hand over her face in happiness. Joy and light.

Jocelyn and Paul at a work table, concentrated and pouring over the images in front of them.

Hundreds of beautiful sketches.

All of those at Runway.

Roy, Lucia, even Irv. The image speaking plainly of barely contained dislike. One of James Holt. Fear and sweat sketched perfectly upon his countenance.

She was nearing the end of the book, until she saw the first one.

Her face. What she was wearing. A sketch of her by the large windows.

She knew when that day had happened.

"_Hire the smart fat girl."_

And the last image. Caused a sound to get lost in her throat.

Caroline and Cassidy had come to see her before a friends costume party for her birthday.

Cassidy a bumble bee. Caroline a white angel. Sparkles and beauty.

And her face. The pencil so deftly caught Miranda. Her face reflecting pure joy at talking and being with her children.

She looked happy. The only image, in a sketch, she had seen of herself, and she was bright. Her eyes shone.

The beauty and delicacy, and time that had created and was swirled around the pages. Staring back at her.

It had taken something truly special to portray this image.

It almost felt like, love.

She swallowed slowly, and closed the last page of the book.

Feeling the desperation and wish to cry.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes it had taken before Miranda had reached the conclusion, she knew she had felt when she had first heard that crack over a cell phone conversation.

She picked up her cell and snapped it open. Pressing the number that she placed on speed dial after finding the new number.

She waited for a few seconds before it was answered.

"Andrea. I believe I have something of yours."


End file.
